


Second Chance

by Kass



Category: due South
Genre: Fraser Fucks Up challenge, M/M, ds_flashfic, post-cotw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-07
Updated: 2009-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/pseuds/Kass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day we turned towards Yellowknife, Ray's silence changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fraser Fucks Up challenge at DS_Flashfic.

  
The day we turned towards Yellowknife, Ray's silence changed.

A reverential silence often descends under the aurora borealis; a contented silence falls after a long day of sledging and a hot meal. This was neither of those.

This was the anticipatory silence of someone waiting to make a declaration, and it struck fear into my heart.

I knew what Ray was going to say: this time in the wilderness had changed him; he wanted to stay here with me. He thought he might love me enough to overturn a lifetime of heterosexuality, if I were willing to take the same leap.

Once the words left his mouth, I wouldn't be able to deny my complicity: I've never been skilled at concealing my heart. My head knows the romance would be doomed; my body, traitor, relishes every "accidental" touch. I couldn't say no to what I have wanted for so long.

So I determined not to let him speak. He was deluded; two months in the great white North can give one illusions, and a romantic like Ray Kowalski would be especially susceptible -- a factor I should have considered before we set off into the sunset together.

But the reality of life in the Territories is harsh, and I didn't think I could bear seeing my shine wear off in his eyes. Once he got back to Chicago, he'd be glad of what he hadn't said.

***

Time to take the plunge. "Fraser, there's something I've been meaning to--"

"Look!" His voice was bright. "That's where I had my first encounter with the caribou."

Fraser was pointing into a thicket of dwarf birch, barely as high as my knee. It looked just like a zillion other places we'd passed. "Huh," I said.

"I was eleven years old at the time. Usiliaq had taught me to follow the shallow indentations left by their hooves in the tundra..."

Dief gave a quiet whine and trotted off.

***

I felt it coming before Ray opened his mouth. "Look, I've been--"

I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Have you ever been swimming with a walrus?"

"What?" His expression said clearly that he was starting to find these diversionary tactics annoying.

"The first time I encountered a walrus in the water I was in a traditional whaleskin umiaq," I babbled.

I kept talking as we struck camp, packed up, and skiied off.

***

"Fraser. You awake?"

No response. Damn it.

"Psst. Hey. Can I talk to you?"

I never noticed he was such a sound sleeper, before.

Unless he was avoiding talking to me. But that couldn't be it; he'd barely stopped talking in two days.

It just seemed like he didn't want to listen.

***

In our final days together I aborted no fewer than seventeen attempts on Ray's part to have The Conversation.

He made his eighteenth try as we were walking across the tarmac to the small plane that would carry him on the first hop southwards. His skin was brown from the sun, his beard surprisingly golden.

"Fraser," he began, and I steeled myself to spout another Inuit tale. Then he surprised me. "I get the feeling you don't want to have this conversation," he said, almost too quietly to hear over the revving propellers.

His directness merited a candid response. "Don't say something you'd regret."

For a long moment we stared at each other. When he took off his sunglasses I saw something in his eyes that made me want to weep.

His lips tightened. "It's been..." He stopped. "Thanks."

"You're most welcome." It sounded inane, and for an instant I couldn't stop my mouth from babbling. "You're always welcome."

"Yeah, pull the other one," he muttered, so softly I wasn't sure I'd read his lips right. He pulled me into a one-armed hug, my heart froze, and then he was walking to the plane.

He didn't look back.

***

Nothing in my life has ever been as depressing as that trip back to Chicago.

I wasn't planning to take it, for starters. I spent a week deciding what I was going to say. We were quiet out there, but it was okay because it gave me time to figure out what was in my head.

What was in my heart.

But the minute I opened my mouth, Fraser started talking. At first I thought it was cool; he was telling me all kinds of stories. I thought maybe it was his way of saying he felt the same way, only without actually saying it.

But it got pretty obvious he was saying just the opposite. He was heading me off at the pass. Trying to protect me from being embarrassed when he didn't want the same thing I did, I guess. I wanted to hate him for it, but I couldn't.

I had a book to read on the way back, but I didn't even crack a page. Couldn't sleep, either. Just kept picturing him standing there on the landing strip, watching me walk away.

Nobody met me at O'Hare; they didn't know I was coming. My duffle bag looked battered and sad on the conveyor belt. The taxicab smelled nasty. My apartment was hot and stale and dusty.

I hoped I wouldn't dream.

***

"Son, have you entirely lost your mind?"

My father sat at the edge of my cot. I was oddly glad to see him: already my world without Ray was lonely. I told myself it would have ended this way eventually, but it wasn't much consolation.

"Nice to see you, too, Dad."

As usual, he ignored my words. "I can't say I was happy when you first took up with the Yank --"

"We never 'took up,' that's entirely--"

"--but sending him back like that was uncalled-for, and you know it!"

"I was sparing him the inevitable."

"You were sparing yourself, and it's obviously working, eh?"

"You don't have any idea what you're talking about!" The words came out angrier than I intended

His shoulders slumped a little. "I know about pushing someone away to ensure that I won't disappoint him," he said, quietly.

I couldn't move.

"And I know it generally backfires. Most of us aren't granted the chance to return and set things right."

When I looked up again, he was gone.

***

The knocking woke me from a dream of snow. I pulled on a robe and staggered to the door, wincing at how sunlight glinted off the empty whisky flask.

It was a DHL Express guy. I signed for the envelope, slammed the door in his face, and dropped it on the counter. Coffee first.

Halfway through my first cup (the smarties were stale, but what else was new) I turned the envelope over. The return address was Moose Jaw.

Suddenly I was wide-awake.

***

The note was only four lines long, but it took me almost two hours to compose.

_I did us both a disservice by fending off your conversation. I was afraid you would change your mind, and wanted to spare myself that heartache. I find I would prefer the risk of losing you later to the certainty of having lost you now. I hope you can forgive me._

The travel agent in Moose Jaw was delighted to see me a second time in one week. Her name is Karen; she was a contemporary of my father's. I rescued her lead dog from a crevasse ten years ago, and she is still appreciative of my efforts.

"I hope your young man comes back," she said, smiling conspiratorially as she passed the ticket across the counter.

I sealed the envelope, handed it to Eddie at the post office, and went back to my cabin to wait for my second chance.


End file.
